waiting by the mailbox
by mahreemari
Summary: When it starts, neither are exactly sure but it does and it happens and neither let it end.
1. passin' by the hills

The bed creaks as he turns, the sheets rustling as he wakes. A yawn escapes, eyes blinking slowly in the dark, and his body tensing mid-stretch. Pushing up, his ears throb lightly, blood rushing forward; a migraine forming in protest. Looking to the side, his eyes squint, eyeing the clock as it strikes the midnight hour. He had fallen asleep hours ago, avoiding Murdoc and his party which, by the way the beat pounded against his door, was still ongoing.

He nabbed at his pills, swallowing the ungodly mixture with a slight grimace. He really should start bringing water with him, make it easier, but he keeps forgetting and really, at this point in his life, he's gotten used to it dry. 2D dresses slowly, tiredness slowly receding.

A walk, he decides, is a good idea.

* * *

The air in the building is hot, body heat mugging the place, the stench of sweat and alcohol and who knows what swirling. His nose twitches as he makes his way down the hall, foregoing the stairs leading down, and heads to the dark little alcove everyone seemed to ignore since moving in.

Padding feet moved closer, the moon streaming in light tendrils. A shift in the dark sounds softly. 2D freezes, a frown forming – he's not in the mood for a stranger right now.

"Loo', the par'ees dow'stairs. Why dun you go n'-,"

Bleary eyes meet, a whimper registering, and the creeping frustration 2D felt building vanishes.

Oh.

 _Oh._


	2. someone to rely on

Their companionship is quiet, shrouded in the dark – simple. He meets her there, night after night, long after the others fall off to sleep. The moon shines still, waning with time. Sometimes he speaks, sometimes she does, sometimes they both do; sometimes neither do.

But that's okay.

* * *

Until _it_ starts, but they roll with that, too.

* * *

At first they don't sit near each other, he's under the window and she's off to the corner a few feet away. He tracks her in the shadows, tracing her outline, her breathing, the light movement of her clothes as she settles. He's talking about something stupid, clouds and stuff, but it works because he's no longer tense and she's getting comfortable.

"Ther's a ni'e big one by teh stor' today. 'uffy, loo' a bit li' a dog."

The floorboards groan, catching his attention and suddenly she's there next to him; their shoulders brushing lightly when she leans against him. Her breath in his ear and his eyes close, shivering, a chill tracing down his spine.

When had she gotten so close?

2D looks at her, curious as she exhales once more, nervousness creeping. Her voice wraps around them gently.

"While I was gone…down there…"

She's shaking, stumbling on her words. He spies a tear leaking out of her eye, stubbornly holding on and he moves, taking her into his arms, gathering her to his chest. 2D runs his fingers through her hair, rocking them both.

"Hey," he coos, pressing a kiss to her brow, "i's okay."

Then it's over and he's standing there alone, his cheek burning, tingling. His ears roar, buzzing, the beat of his heart pumping wildly and something warm lulls at him deep.

 _"Thank you."_

Her lips were soft.

* * *

She seeks him out often now, during the day. Her eyes heavy with sleep deprivation but there's a shine in them now that he likes to see. They don't talk about nighttime then, the secrets shared between the two locked away, forgotten for later.

* * *

They're eating breakfast when Murdoc stumbles in, a cigarette dangling off his fingers and curses when he sees 2D.

"Wha'chu loo'ing at Faceache? Keep staring 'n I'm gonna rip your eyes ou'!"

Murdoc clanks at the cupboard, cups clinking against each other; 2D flinches when one flies past him, shattering when it hits the wall on impact. Curling further in his seat, he turns slightly, catching Noodle's eyes. Shame crawling in him when he sees the pity in her gaze.

From under the table, Noodle reaches for him, ignoring the screech of the chair dragging across from her. Her hold is light and his fingers are limp when she laces his fingers with hers, but it's warm and reassuring.

She squeezes his hand, he squeezes it back grateful.

Her hand, too, is soft.

* * *

She joins in on his walks, when he's cloud watching or when he's making a trip to the store. She fills their small cart with treats for Russel who is still giant and too big to come inside. Noodle cracks a joke which makes him laugh and 2D nudges her playfully in the aisle. A fan interrupts them at the till, gifting them juice and a request for a photo. They oblige easily, thanking the girl, smiles holding for the flash, feeling light.

* * *

They're sitting in a field now, the sky bright and blue and the sun shining down at them. Noodle strums her guitar gently, mixing with his keyboard; he wishes he had brought his melodica, but it's lost in a box and he's yet to find it. Maybe he'll borrow hers next time.

It's nice.

Just them and the clouds and music and now.

So nice.


	3. i'll wait to be forgiven

The end comes in the form of a letter by the postman.

They're sitting side by side, the full moon peering over them in the clear. Noodle suggested opening the window to look at the stars but 2D couldn't see them. They'll buy a telescope later. For now, they'll take daytime cloud watching.

Noodle is particularly chatty tonight, he notices.

He thinks he knows why.

She had caught Murdoc and him fighting in the kitchen. He was lying on the ground, face bloody and clutching something against his chest with a vice while Murdoc sported a growing black eye. She had screamed then, causing Russel to boom outside, shaking the building when he threatens to come down. She's rushing down towards him when Murdoc sends one last vengeful kick, a gasp leaving 2D in a spat of blood, and leaves the room stomping in a huff, muttering angrily.

"Nothin' but gold diggers, I'm telling you – the 'ole fucking lo' of 'em."

A door slams shut in the distance, once again Russel is questioning, but Noodle calms him quickly. He lets go reluctantly, she'll meet up with him on the rooftop later, she promises; she needs to tend to 'D first.

* * *

His injuries this time around, to say the least, were thankfully minimal, or as minimal as one could get when compared to his other scuffles with the band's bassist.

* * *

She takes him to his bed, tucking him under his covers, an empty glass in her hand from when she had handed him pills. He eyes her face, the way she looks at the garbage strewn on the ground and chuckles, wheezing when his ribs begin to shout, squeezing horribly.

"'e'll clean my roo' later, yeah? May'ee Thursday. 'hat sounds li' a cleaning day – Thursday."

Noodle nods stiffly, frowning. He yawns, pills in effect, and smiles, patting her hand lazily.

"'e'll talk 'oon, not righ' now. I 'fink I'm fallin' asleep, wouldn't be 'ery good company to you then, snoring."

She snorts and his eyes close, drifting when he feels her on his forehead, gentle and faint.

* * *

She's droning on about the stars, something about constellations. She told him those were stars that made pictures and shapes in the sky. Like bears and a boat. 2D thinks he'd like to see a bear in a boat in the sky.

"There's another one called Orion, he's a hunter-,"

"Noodle."

He's pulling her in close, long arms surrounding her in gratitude. Her breath catches in her throat when he pulls away a second later, his eyes beaming in the twilight. They're huddled even closer now, their sides flushed, when he pulls a letter out of his pocket. Unfolding it quietly, smoothing out the edges. It's covering in stickers, she notes, messy handwriting crossing out mistakes and rewriting them on the side.

She cocks her had to the side, curious.

Fan mail doesn't come to them directly, Murdoc made sure of that when he made a PO Box months ago. Just the "official" stuff he said, none of that extra litter until they, he, felt like it.

Wordlessly 2D hands the envelope to her, gently coaxing her grip off his knee. She looks at him then, peering into his black depths, flushing when she sees the trust in them. Slowly, she opens the letter, a photo falling out, and pauses when blonde hair and shocking blue eyes appear, gleaming with mirth.

Noodle feels her heart quake, out of what, she isn't sure, but this, she knows.

He's mentioned her once, weeks ago.

His secret.


	4. my star has left me

She's ignoring him now.

* * *

He told Noodle about her, the little girl named Annabelle spawned from a drunken haze.

"'ey're visiting soon," he whispered, pointing the girl, "She 'n 'er mum. For a wee'. Sh'ees real swee', dun really see me as a da' 'ough, more li' a distant uncle. Sh'ees teh only one tha' was real, you know; all teh others 'ere fake, 'azy birds left and righ' dyed their babies' 'air blue but 'er? I knew righ' away. She had my eyes, tha' one did...er, my eyes from b'fore Muds 'n all. Not t'ese ones."

He pointed to his eyes when she stood up quietly, handing the picture back to him and he watches her trod out through the darkness, the sounds of her trek squeaking down the steps, disappearing from his view.

* * *

And then that was that.

* * *

At first it was a night, then two, then three, then four, and now it's been a fortnight since he's last seen her. He thinks he should feel hurt, offended, but he doesn't. Months of just being for hours on end halting abrupt. He doesn't know what he did, maybe he didn't do anything, maybe he did, and maybe she was fine now. She's her own person after all.

It doesn't hurt.

Really.

No company to dribble on the day with, he doesn't have to wait for her to come or pressure when she wants to do something else. He can do what he wants, when he wants, however he wants.

He's been doing what he's done by himself long before she tagged herself along.

So, no.

He's not lonely.

He's not.

At all.

* * *

How awkward it was, to meet up with a past one night stand and their child who he's only met barely three times prior during her infant stage. It's late in the evening now and he's standing there, waiting for the train to pull up, the pitter patter of the rain surrounding the station, wet boots and shaking umbrellas reverberating around him. Charging footsteps registering in his conscious in the far off space.

"It's you!"

Bony arms wrapped around him, an excited squeal shocking him, the small bundle of nerves in him strikes in full force as he gets tackled with nostalgic blue eyes and girlish energy.

He squints down at his attacker, a grin warming through slowly, clapping his would-be attacker's shoulder lively.

"Hello, Annabelle."

* * *

Annabelle drags him through the station; apparently he was at the wrong one. She pulls him to a stop in front of two ladies and he only recognizes one of them, Mary, though vaguely. He turns to the unfamiliar one, a greeting on his tongue when Annabelle interrupts him.

"Look Mummy! Mum was right; he was in a different station!"

He looks at Annabelle and then at women in front of him, noticing their hands clasped together tightly, his eyebrows notched high in interest.

Huh.

Strange.

Why does he feel relief?

* * *

2D walks them to the closest tea shop and takes a table in the far back corner. Sinking in the cushion, he hands Annabelle a few quid to surprise them with an order, the other woman, Emily, she said her name was, following after her.

Mary smirked at him from across the seat, copying his stare to the girl and the slightly portly woman next to her. He cleared his throat, unsure on what to say. He didn't really know her besides that one night, well, he didn't really remember that one either. He didn't know her at all.

"I 'idn't know you 'ere..."

The lady in front of him stops him short, amused, "Lesbian? Neither did I, but it happens. We've been together for just about ten years now. Where else did you think the baby got her sweetness from? Certainly not from me and most definitely not from you."

2D snickered in agreement.

Alright. He could take that.

* * *

They distract him from his thinking and he's happy to be so, if only slightly.

* * *

They meet four times that week; the first day spent touring the local area which wasn't much. Muds didn't really pick a busy location to live in this time around. But 2D tries to make it fun, he takes them to the park, the market; the little café off the side of the road that Noodle discovered on one of their walks. She liked their little cakes.

He thinks he'll buy her one though he's not sure she'll eat it.

Annabelle likes it, and Mary, and Emily.

So he buys one, sticks it in the fridge and forgets about it.

Whether Noodle eats it or not, it's still there, waiting.

Not that he checks.

* * *

Annabelle is leading him though a toy store in London, what a fourteen year old wants with a toy store, he can't think of it, but she's having fun. They pass by tall racks, filled with dolls and puzzles. A mountain of stuffed animals piled high enraptures the girl's attention and she drops his hand, pivoting on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"Go on ahead," he smiles, "I'll buy you one."

Then she's off, jumping into the fray of toys and other children and he's stuck by himself to wander the store without her. Alone. Mary and Emily had left them earlier for a date, and while he hopes they have a good time, he's alone now and there's not much else to do but circle the store until Annabelle wins whatever fight she's having with a twelve year old holding a rather peculiar looking cat plush.

2D wonders when the last time he's been in a toy store, they had those figures made years ago but he doesn't think that counts. There are all sorts of stuff now. Like slime. Though slime looks like snot but he guesses some strange children like it enough for it to be a business. There are also paddle-balls and hula-hoops and other knick-knacks.

He's looking at all the boxes, the colorful packaging, when something catches his eye. A dinky little box that has him interested, its name plastered in bold font.

Telescopes.

That's what Noodle called them, right?

He thinks so.

2D calls for assistance, walking towards the nearest employee, his strides quick and the box outreached when he shows it to the worker.

"'tis thin', 'tis…er…'telly-sco'," he says slowly, unsure on how to pronounce the word, "You use 'tis to loo' outsi', righ'? To 'ee stars? At nigh'?"

The worker blinks, taking in his appearance, bobbing his head uncertainly in confirmation. The worker takes the box from his hands and despite being dazzled, explains to the singer, using big words 2D didn't care for, something like a beginner's set and that they had much more advanced versions online they could order for him. He declines though, on the offer, this one in his hand is good and simple.

He likes simple.

Annabelle greets him at the front, when he's pulling out his card to pay, her smile is victorious and he pays for her winnings without a thought. She's going on about what she's found and how she ripped it out of a rude posh boy's grubby hands, not paying much mind to 2D's trailing thoughts as they stroll around the corner where her mums wait patiently for them.

He really likes simple.

* * *

He isn't sure if he wants to tonight, but he would like to see the stars soon. Maybe he would find that sailor bear Noodle told him about. Or perhaps the moon, that bugger has been hiding for at least two days now.

Has it always done that?

He wants to know.

* * *

Russel is normal again. Like magic. He tells 2D it was science, but 2D doubts him. He believes it was magic. Makes more sense that way, magic that is.

* * *

He hasn't seen Noodle for a long time now, face to face. Just glances spanning for half seconds and then she's gone and he doesn't see her ever.

Noodle must know magic, too.

* * *

That's what he thinks usually now, but then he'll spy her through the window, lugging an unconscious Murdoc over her shoulder to pull him in, a disapproving Russel greeting them when he opens the door for her.

This goes on and on like a pattern.

There's one consistent thing though, that Noodle does.

She leaves Muds on the kitchen tile every night he accompanies her to the local club. Occasionally, 2D's feeling generous and goes down to retrieve the older man, tossing the bassist in his room. Russel doesn't bother and sometimes 2D doesn't feel so nice.

* * *

She could've asked him to accompany her; he thinks he would've been just as if not more fun than Murdoc. He wouldn't leave her side or drink without abandon, ultimately burdening her to bring him home.

* * *

He dances better, too.

* * *

He sees her once again now, treading just before dawn. His head was peeking out the window with the telescope resting over his eye, looking beyond, when he hears her. A plastered Murdoc once again by her side and she's looking up, an audible sigh of exasperation echoing the street before stifling, lost. Seconds pass, minutes even, hours – a lifetime flying, when he pulls the telescope away, matching her unblinkingly.

Until that, too, ends far too soon.

Muds' vomit on the steps, the only evidence the fleeting exchange ever occurred.

But that is also washed away in the late morning.

Like magic.

* * *

He's saying goodbye to them now, to Annabelle and to Mary and to Emily.

"We'll call you when we land back in Australia," Emily says, handing the cabbie their trunks and leads Annabelle to her seat, buckling her in; both leaving Mary alone to talk to him. She gives him a hug, a fast, awkward little thing and releases him, stepping back towards the taxi.

"Why don't you just try and talk to her? That girl that has your mind all scrambled?" Mary smirked, keeping her voice low, "You were pretty obvious."

Alarmed surprise escapes him, jumping on his words unintelligently when she shushes him with a laugh, climbing into the passenger seat.

Obvious?

"Oh, and 2D?"

He meets her eyes, a kind smile lighting up her face.

"Good luck."

He watched noncommittally, enclosing on himself, lost in thought; waving as the car drove off and out in the distance.

He should talk to her, shouldn't he?

* * *

But he doesn't.

* * *

He doesn't and sits there in the dark, the telescope in his hand, listening to Russel's snoring and Murdoc's stumbling.

Doesn't do anything but sit and think and think and sit.

He doesn't see the bear in a boat in the sky, doesn't find the moon, doesn't talk to her.

His hand over his heart, soothing the twinge in his chest, he must have forgotten a dosage because he isn't lonely, isn't sad, isn't anything.

Honestly.

He isn't.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

But he is.

And he does.

He misses the moon, and them, and then.

And her.


	5. and i'm listening to the whispers

She's getting dressed, short skirts and silky fabrics and expensive shoes with heels long enough to injure a man, mind absent when she grabs her bag. Her shoes clack against the ground despite her efforts on being quiet and she's finally reaching for the door, her hand on the knob when she hears the sofa shift and turns, blue flashing and she's out the door, running down the steps. Noodle doesn't make it far, just barely a block away when Murdoc comes screeching by, smog curling from his car and she enters just as quick, buckling her seatbelt in when he floors the pedal.

They've been doing this for a while now, attending parties, getting drunk, and getting away from Wobble Street. She'll dance her troubles out on the floor and he's in the back getting wasted and stoned and laid by stranger or three. Until the club shuts down for the night and all the patrons scatter like ants and she's left with her uninhibited band leader to take home. Which she does, dragging him the entire length, his dead weight being the most of her troubles; she's thankful for him in a way, already giving her his keys before he starts letting go, it was a habit formed from when they first started attending parties together weeks ago, she persisted and he really didn't need another DUI.

* * *

 _Loud music booming in her ear, she's moving with the beat, feeling reckless and wild. She's been dancing for hours now, since she escaped the house that evening, a gaggle of local girls welcoming her into their group. Noodle, taps one of the girls' arms, gesturing towards the bar, smiling when the girl nods and follows her to the stools. She waits as the girl begins to order, feeling bored as her high slips, tensing in warning when an arm wraps around her._

" _A round of shots for these ladies," the stranger says, smirking when she turns._

 _She's scowling, plucking his arm off her as she gets off her seat. Noodle turns to the other girl, looking apologetic when the girl shrugs, awkwardly raising their purchased glasses, the shots pushed to the side. Reaching for the drink, the strange guy snatches it, taking the cocktail and downing it. She's clenching her fist, feeling frustrated; the guy is getting too close to her face and she's just about to punch, being interrupted at the last second, a familiar green body crashing against the counter._

" _Wha' shots?" Murdoc asked, shooting the glasses back, clicking his tongue, "I dun 'ee any. Why dun you le' go of my lady friend over 'ere 'n piss off? 'fore she gets 'eally mad, you wouldn' li' it," he chortled, lowering his gaze down the man's form before traveling back up, "She aims low."_

* * *

"Sum'thins' wrong wit'chu," he slurs wobbly, his finger in her face, eyes glazed and incoherent.

He's been murmuring lately, complaining, about everything when he's drunk and she's tired of him, of the comments. She's tired of the dancing and her aching feet and the booze and the heat and the sweat and the smoke and the people.

She tired of Russel being "'oo fucking big", and 2D being "a na'eve fuck", and Murdoc being a douche.

"'n you!" he's laughing now, dark and insulting, and she feels like hurting him when he opens his mouth once more, "you're li' a fucking 'icked puppy."

She drops him on the floor then, his pained groans protesting, tearing off her heels, running to her room.

She tired and she's had enough of him tonight.

She doesn't feel like doing anything anymore right now.

* * *

She's sitting there in the absolute dark, by herself, confined by her bedroom walls, ears straining to listen to the shuffles from upstairs where she knew where _he_ would be going and what _he_ was doing, and she feels like she's suffocating.

Eyes squeezing shut, she's tugging at her hair, gripping her ears, forcing in a breath, and thinks, remembering.

* * *

 _She's walking with him, watching him and feeling fond; he's enthusiastically talking about the latest zombie film he's seen and she giggles when he stumbles on a stray rock, limbs flailing to steady the basket in his arms. She helps steady him, bunching the folded blanket she carried against her side higher. Their instrument cases banging when she palms his shoulder and he's exhaling loudly, a sigh of relief, thanking her._

 _He's taking her hand, eager, the grass crunching at their feet, his hair ruffling in the wind._

 _"Com' on Noods," he says, "you'll love teh spot I 'ound."_

 _They had ditched the house that afternoon, waving goodbye to Russel as he sat perched on the roof, keeping her windmill island tethered. It had been sunny all morning, a light breeze drafting here and there; it had made Noodle itch to stretch herself out and sunbathe, finding a picnic a wonderful idea when 2D suggests it._

 _Reaching a clearing, he set their cases down, gently setting their basket aside and helps her set up the blanket. Smoothing it down, he flopped over it, feeling content, only shifting when she made her way down, her hands unzipping her guitar case to reveal an acoustic. She set it on her lap, strumming lazily, the cords to On Melancholy Hill circling them, lovely and somber, continuing even as he laid his head down to rest against her knees, twisting to face her, concentrating on her expression, lips mouthing the lyrics by heart, whispering them out every so often._

 _"…'cause you are my medicine…when you're close to me…"_

* * *

 _She's running her fingers though his hair, fascinated when the sunrays catch, haloing the soft strands. A yawn escapes him, his eyes closing away from the sun, breathing light. She notes the bags under his eyes are even darker than usual, tracing them with her fingers. He sighed again, her touch drifting to his jaw when he holds them in his own, hunching her in their position. A serene quirk of his lips lift his expression as he feels her hair tickling his face, eyes blinking open to find solace in her presence. He brings a hand to his lips, kissing the palm, and drapes it over his heart, letting her feel the slow beat._

 _"I thought abou' you…Me 'n Russ both. We 'ere so scared when we couldn' find you. Murdoc insisted you 'ere fine, you 'ad to be 'cause you 'ere our Noodle, but…you never came back, you went missing for real by then 'idn't you? I couldn' 'tand it, 'finking you were dead, so I left. Funny 'ough, wha' I was doing, getting' a law degree; Muds dun' believe me, but I did. Can't find teh certificate 'ough, I 'fink I los' it."_

 _"I'm sorry for not telling you."_

 _"Nah, it's alrigh' now; dun' even botha'. You jus' 'eeded some air, yeah?"_

* * *

 _They stood side by side, leaning against the wall, the window cracked open, letting in a draft. His eyes wide and haunted, he looked at her like she were a ghost._

" _I 'ated it ther', on the i'land. Always locked up, forcing me to sing. Murdoc would beat me, not tha' tha's new, but then he would set tha' thin' on me and tha' 'eally…Noodle, love, tha' robot…sometimes she would seek me ou', withou' Muds' orders 'n jus' watch me li' I was a bug. She would force me to loo' at teh whale, would grab my 'ead 'n press it agains' the window, her fingers would 'old my eyeballs open. She never let me sleep 'n sometimes when I got ill she would jus' watch me sick myself. She was always 'ouching my neck, when she li' to 'urt me; she li' stranglin' me until I was purple. She would laugh. She sounded jus' li' you tha' sometimes I thought it was you. I had thought tha' she was you 'n tha' you li' it when you hurt me. I 'fink she wanted me to 'fink she was you which was strange 'cause you'd never hurt me 'n she did."_

 _2D stood up, stretching, bones popping, he tapped at their window, letting it rattle, "I 'fink I was starting to believe her, too, at the end, but then Russ came 'n you appeared all grown up 'n I knew righ' then."_

 _He patted head, looking pleased, and crept away for her to ponder._

* * *

 _He's pressing at his keyboard, playing the keys and she watches, fascinated at the way his hands fly across easily. She plucked one off the keys, cradling the limb in her lap, admiring the grooves on his palm. She brushed over his knuckles absently as he continued to play single-handedly before jumping in with her free one, laughing as they hit the notes to a made up melody._

 _She liked listening to him play._

 _She liked playing with him._

 _She liked the feel of her hand holding his._

* * *

At first they let her have him, left her alone when she sees him. And she feels at peace, in his company, talking about whatever comes to mind.

She likes it.

Likes him.

* * *

But he shows her the photo and everything falls apart.

* * *

She's never seen the eyes, just their ominous forms, hidden and blurred; hasn't remembered since she escaped, refusing to let them surface. Aberrations trapped in Hell, volatile monstrosities; limbs and protrusions lodged to their bodies like growths and mouths sharp, gnarly, snaking tongues, their eyes numerous and dilated, hungry.

They followed her, circling at her steps, tossing objects to injure her, inching with daggers and claws to her flesh only to pull away at the last second.

Relentlessly following her, stalking every move, disallowing sleep or time to think. They would not touch her until she was deemed ready, waiting, reveling on hunched shoulders and nervous ticks.

Electric eyes watched prey, craving, waiting for her to succumb.

* * *

She's chocking when she wakes, delirious and fearful, sweat rolling down in waves, fists curled, nails digging, cutting into her palms and she can't stop quavering, tremors racking, unable to breathe.

* * *

She's looking at herself, the mirror fogging from the steaming showerhead, hands tracing at her throat, fingers printed, angry bruises painting her windpipe.

A tear slips, sinking into her invisible scar, the marks vanishing in its wake.

* * *

They're laughing at her, taunts and insults, jabbing at her in all hours. Slithering in her ears, pointing in the corners, in her dreams they attack her; they threaten her with him. His mangled body in their hands, his eyes gouged and his throat ripped out and they're dancing, drenched in his blood, covering in what was left of his hair.

If they can't have her, they'll take him, they promise.

So she avoids him.

And then he's safe.

* * *

She looks at the snack he bought her, the decorative petit fours sitting innocently in the front of the refrigerator, boxed and ignored. They've been there for about half a week now and she's drunk and hungry and she knows he bought them for her and she likes them so much.

Noodle chugs the rest of her beer, crushing the can and tossed it behind her, hitting her growing pile. She opens the box clumsily, smashing one of the cakes in the process when she sits at the table. She hiccups and takes bite out of one, her mouth trembling, the cake was stale now. Stale but sweet and feels tears beginning to form until she chokes them back with another bite, cracking open yet another can, sipping at the foam.

In the flickering light, she can feel Russel watching her from his spot by the entrance, visible concern washing over him, but she smiles, raising her can at him in mock toast, the rest of the cake gone like everything else.

* * *

She wants to talk to him.

* * *

But she can't.

Because she's pushed him away.

And now he's gone.

And they weren't them anymore.

* * *

 _"The ones with no will tasted best."_


	6. are you still with me

Band practice was awkward and Muds wasn't having it, his displeased voicing loudly when 2D forgot a lyric or when Noodle missed her ques. Russel groaned, his head starting to ache, they had been at this for barely an hour and the session just wasn't going to happen it seemed. He wiped his sweat with his arm, stepping away from his set, he watched as Muds dropped his bass angrily, hand digging into his pocket for his smokes, he had been going through to his last ones, and when he discovered the empty box he grunted furiously, chucking the empty carton at 'D. Noodle started forwards, her mouth open like she were to say something but then stepped back, looking downcast. Russel set his sticks down, Murdoc stomping towards the door, flipping everyone off.

"Fuck off all o'you; shit fo' brains! Can't even work wit' non' o' you sober…"

Russel looked at the singer and guitarist, neither speaking a word as he walked to the door to follow Murdoc off. Something was strange, he felt it since he shrunk down to size, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He rapped his knuckles on the door, capturing Noodle's attention, shrugging helplessly.

"Want to get outta here? We can get that boba stuff you like," he said, happy to see her nod appreciatively.

She made her way to him, pausing midway to glace at 2D, who gazed at his microphone in a trance, before shaking her head, finishing her trot to the big man, exiting the room with a skip.

"You're paying!"

Door swung shut, Russel watching through the closing crack when the singer turned, his black eyes burning holes at the back of Noodle's head as she passed the corner.

* * *

Russel walked with Noodle, his eyes squinting against the sun, Muds long gone by the looks of his missing car. He hadn't been out very much since his downsizing but Noodle seemed to know where she was going and he trusted her not to get them lost.

They walked on the sidewalk, the trees covering them in shade, and Noodle taping away at her phone, the sounds of leaves being crushed under their feet. The trees rustled, a breeze coming through, Noodle trailed behind Russel before coming to a stop; he looked at her, her hair blowing and her face pointed towards the sun, eyes closed in its warmth, basking.

He looked up as well, the clear blue expanding in his sight, he thought of the band, 2D and his increased vapidness and Noodle with her unusual flighty nature. They were being weird, tiptoeing; like they couldn't stand to be in the same room and when they were they forgot how to act. He thought of Murdoc then, surely he noticed something.

Whatever it was, Russel wanted it to end soon.

* * *

2D's eye snapped open, huffing, panting erratically, head jerking to the corners of his room. No whale. He laid his head back down, trying to fall back asleep, groaning as the minutes flew. He tossed his blanket aside, rolling off his mattress.

"Five isn't too off from seven," he thought, pulling on a shirt as he left the room, making his way to the stairs, steps going slower when he heard a chair screech.

He stuck to the wall, blending to the shadow, peeking his head out just barely, eyes widening as he saw Russel, standing, arms crossed and upset at the green man who was still seated, limbs splayed out in boredom.

" _-coming back home every night with her like that, I mean what the hell Muds?"_

" _S'nothin' wrong wit' having fun, better than doin' shit. Besides, not li' she's alone, she's got me in 'er circle."_

" _That's not the point, have you even looked at her? She looks like she hasn't slept in a month-,"_

" _Non' o' us sleep righ', the dollop fo' example, he dun sleep eva' 'n he loo' jus' fi-"_

" _Him, too, man! He's been super quiet, he's never done that. They both have been acting off; what happened?"_

2D heard a squeak above him, whipping his head back at the source, his heart at his throat, feeling caught. Noodle. He blinked slowly, meeting her, locking when she blinked back, frozen. He gulped, not wanting to alert the other two of their presence and climbed the stairs, the voices of their bandmates drifting when he reaches her at the top. Even forgoing the final stair, he towered over her, his hand raising nervously, waving slightly.

"Hello."

"Hey," she whispered, her hand returning the gesture, fingers curling.

They stared at each other, uncomfortable and unable to talk. It had been a while since it was just them. 2D scratched the back of his neck, eyes flickering down as she worried her lip, looking at his painted nails, the lacquer chipping from when she last done them.

"Um, Noodle," he cleared this throat, her attention back on him, "I 'fink-"

" _Fuck!"_

2D and Noodle both cringed, Murdoc's voicing bellowing angrily from the kitchen.

" _Wot' teh hell, Russ? I already fucking told you 'ere's nothin'! I fucking checked! Nothin' but her 'n her loopy 'ead. I 'old you once 'n I'll tell you again, fatass, she's fucking-!"_

A loud crash from below startled them both causing 2D to jump forwards, frightened and Noodle flinched at the sounds of the chairs being upturned, Murdoc's yelling sputtering out, indicating foul play. She leaned slightly, she front brushing his, blushing when she realized how close he was, and he cleared his throat once more, reaching for her wrist, a hairsbreadth away, his voice overlapping Russel's angry tone in the background.

"I 'fink we need to talk, Noodle."


	7. the answer's somewhere deep in it

He doesn't take her too far, up the stairs, down the hall, slowing to a stop when they reach the front of her bedroom door. He drops her hand, eyes darting behind him, looking to see if Russ or Muds would come. But they didn't and it's just them and he doesn't know exactly what to say and he feels awkward.

But she's there, in front if him, waiting patiently as his mind catches up.

She looks lovely, he thinks, Noodle in her velvet jumper.

She smelt like the club, sweat and smoke and sex and alcohol. It's a familiar smell. Familiar to when he was wild and crazy, drugged up to the nines.

He didn't like it on her, she looked exhausted.

Noodle sagged against the door, tired, yawning, "'D."

His focus snapped back to her, he still hadn't talked, like he forgot how to, but he's locked on her and she's looking back, the greens of her eyes swirling like she's reading his mind and he's getting lost in the rhinestones.

 _Why are you ignoring me?_

 _Did I do something wrong?_

 _Please talk to me._

 _I miss you._

"I hear things in my head."

The door opens, Noodle drifting though as it closes in his face.

His mind scrambles, thoughts racing.

They don't talk again that night.

* * *

But then she appears again a few days, nights, after, back into the shadows, quiet and withdrawn, and he's there in the shrouding light, his face in the night, still searching the stars.

It's not like how it was and she's fighting demons he can't see.

But he is there and so is she.

And they continue on.

Like they did.

It was okay again.


	8. have to tell you that i love you so much

The month flies by, done at last, and 2D is handed yet another end though much more anticlimactic than the last; their stay at Wobble Street is over.

He doesn't mind it.

* * *

They pack up quickly, Russel having the least, talking on the phone with movers and Murdoc at the back of his car, jamming the last his luggage away.

He and Noodle are in her room, her things being wrapped up and boxed in the way that she likes, her ceiling light flickering, and the lazy drawl of whoever she has playing on the radio serenades them both in lieu of conversation.

They had done his room first; it wasn't a lot of work. He didn't have much that wasn't trash and most of his things were still boxed. Packing wasn't much, neither was their eviction, enviable and frequent enough that they were quick to ready.

He looks down at his hands, clutching the familiar masks, uncertainty filling him, fingers trailing over the paint, scrutinizing. Plastic Beach.

He gazed up at Noodle, the crinkling of newspapers at her fingertips when she wraps up her belongings. She doesn't pay him mind, taping yet another box shut, marker in hand to label it, humming absently.

He observed her from his spot, eyeing her slender neck, her willowy shoulders, her hair wild but her face soft, sweet in the dusty light. His heart warmed comfortably, the racing pacified in her presence as it had done, aching wonderfully and familiarly.

He slips on his mask; concealing him like it did, hiding him from her, veiling the growing blush with ease.

He thinks about her and him and them and knows.


	9. my heart is in economy

He's standing by the door when Russel shows up; Noodle greets him happily, topping her boxes on the growing stacks 2D created. They grouped down to the kitchen, drinks in mind, the sun setting low casting the space in a golden hue, and 2D can't remember when he last saw the place so empty looking.

The drummer tossed him a beer, Noodle's already in hand, toasting when he cracks it open in a unanimous cheer. They don't chat much, just bit, on the movers coming in the morning and Muds returning from his final party.

Noodle bid them goodnight, her unfinished drink in her grasp, steps quick and quiet, leaving the two men alone in the growing dusk.

Having nothing else to say, 2D downs the rest of his drink, Russ' already chucked in the trash, standing, knuckles cracking when he stretches, a yawn escaping. He claps 2D on the shoulder, a muted smile taking over his features at the sight on the singers tensing shoulders.

"Relax, 'D. Relax."

The drummer pats him once more as if it were an affirmation, disappearing with a whistle, leisure cloaking the big man.

2D sets his can in the overflowing bin, fingers hitting the kitchen switch off, wandering away.

Their last night at Wobble Street is out, beckoning him back to the alcove, blanketing him, his telescope the only link to the mystery, wandering for hours.


	10. rolling in and caught again

He doesn't know what time it is when she shows, meeting out in the middle, lost in thought when he's grabbing her wrist, taking her hand and the windows open and he's climbing out, leading her to follow, seating them both on the roof.

It was cloudy, the moon bright and full, shining like a beacon through the sea of overcast, illuminating, fighting against the developing dawn, enveloping Noodle's face like a halo.

2D looked back out into the sky, the telescope in his hand, concentrated.

"You know," he starts, studying her from the other side of the glass, "I can never find tha' bear or tha' boat or tha' 'unter chap you 'old me 'bout."

"But?" She intones, curious.

It's been about a year since she had told them about the constellations.

Had he still kept looking?

"But," he drawled, lowering the telescope, affection twinkling," I was able to find teh moon."

He's tugs her close, like an impulse, pulling her into his embrace; she's melts into his touch, hesitance dissolving, and they sit there, just breathing, just being.

They watch as the sun begins to rise, peeking out the horizon and she's there in his arms, his hold on her taut and firm, hands wrapped around her shoulder pressing against delicate small of her back. He breathes in her scent, beheld in her, pressing his forehead down against hers, black eyes locked on green, feeling faint watching her flush a bashful red.

He takes her in, this beautiful woman in front of him.

Noodle.

His Noodle.

The Moon.

Fingers interloping, breath mingling, he raises his free hand, trailing over her collarbone in a soft caress, raising to the thin slope of her neck, carding through her sleek strands.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, ghosting over her temple, kissing away the tears that had unknowingly begun to fall, waiting to see her emerald orbs. He moved his hands up, taking her joined hand with him, cradling her jaw as she leaned into his touch, exhaling shakily.

Hearts pounding in sync, their lips brushed, relishing in the feel, and met.

Oh.

 _Oh._

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Please don't be afraid to suggest in the reviews what other Gorillaz songs I should try my hand at writing a fic for (2nu (preferred) or general, any phase, AUs included). Thanks again, everyone. See you in the next story!_**


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